


The King's Curse

by GothOprah



Series: The Campaign of Fairy Tales [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Branding, Dark Magic, Drabble, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Dungeons & Dragons References, Gen, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Torture, Magic, Magical Tattoos, Non-Sexual Slavery, Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, Potions, Short One Shot, Slavery, Spells & Enchantments, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 20:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21482113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GothOprah/pseuds/GothOprah
Summary: Ansley Robinson is a slave to the high priest of Mezzikia, a kingdom of half-lings who worship death and revere the dead. When Ansley is caught stealing, he is brought before the king. Instead of the usual punishment of execution, the King has a better idea.
Series: The Campaign of Fairy Tales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548418
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	The King's Curse

Ansley’s head slammed into the marble floor with a sickening thud. His nose was bleeding and as he attempted to push himself up a thick foot was placed on his neck and pinned him back to the floor, smearing the sickening red liquid on the floor.

“What is the meaning of this, Priest? You’re dirtying my floor.” King Oncith never looked up from his scrolls, too busy to be interrupted by the affairs of a slave and it’s master.  
“Your highness,” cried Gerlach. “This slave has been caught stealing the offerings for the dead!” That caught the king’s attention. He slowly set his scroll aside and removed his glasses. Ansley struggled underfoot but only succeeded in having his airway constricted as Gerlach pushed his boot harder against the floor. The king rose from his seat and slowly made his way forward to stand in front of Ansley. “Let him up.” the king ordered. Gerlach opened his mouth to protest but reluctantly bowed his head. “Yes, my king.” He removed his foot from Ansley’s neck. He coughed and gasped for breath. The king lowered his scepter and placed it under Ansley’s chin. He raised Ansley to look at him. The king’s eyes were cold and unfeeling. They didn’t match the malicious smirk that danced across his lips.

“So, you’ve been stealing from the dead. Why don’t you explain yourself, slave?” Ansley grit his teeth. “They’re dead. They don’t need it!” He said, defiance lining his words as he stared at the king. Gerlach slammed the butt of his whip on the back of Ansley’s head. “You will watch your tongue! The dead are to be respected in this pa-” “Enough Gerlach,” the king interrupted. Oncith knelt down to Ansley’s level and lifted his head up by his hair. “You’ve been here for nearly twenty years, how did you think you could get away with it?” Oncith’s tone was laced with amusement as he looked over the beaten halfling in front of him. When Ansley didn’t answer, the king yanked his hair. “You will answer me when I speak to you, slave.” He snapped. “Fuck you!” Ansley gathered as much spit and blood he could and spat it into the king’s face.

Oncith pulled away and wiped his face, mildly impressed with the gumption Ansley was showing. He raised a hand to stop the approaching guards. “My king, I suggest that we execute this heretic at once! He deserves to be-” “No.” Oncith stood and retreated to his desk. “No?” Gerlach repeated, aghast. “No. I have a better punishment in mind for something like him.” His fingers ran across a battered spell tome, his lips drawing into an evil smile.

Confusion and fear filled Ansley’s stomach. He was sitting in a holding cell, dressed in colorful scarves dyed colors he’d only seen royals wear. His ears had been pierced and now rings of gold were dangling from his lobes. The only way you could tell Ansley was a prisoner was by the heavy iron shackles binding his wrists and neck. He jumped as the stone door slid aside and two guards entered the cell. Gerlach entered and clasped a chain to the iron collar. “Walk,” he ordered. Ansley reluctantly rose to his feet and followed behind his master.

The group filed through the halls of the palace. Servants and nobles alike stopped and stared at them, whispering behind their hands. A few even began to follow them, curious as to what was happening. The guards lead Ansley and Gerlach to a set of large iron doors. Gerlach placed his hand on the door, and slowly they slid aside for him. Once the group of guards and Ansley had passed through, the doors slid shut, making Ansley swallow in fear. He turned to look at the room ahead and his heart sank into his feet.

Ahead of him was a stone altar, decorated with runes and reliefs of battles past. Wooden tables with tools and wands were neatly placed around the altar, but what scared Ansley the most was the long iron rod sticking out of a fire that had been set in the furnace behind the altar. His feet couldn’t seem to move as Gerlach once again ordered him to walk. The sting of a whip strike from the guard lit up his back and he stumbled forward, finally moving toward the altar.

He was retrained to the cold stone by thick leather straps that held his wrists and ankles in place. Once he was restrained, the king’s cool smirk hovered over him. “Would you like to know what is going to happen to you, boy?” Ansley swallowed his pride and nodded slowly. “Well, I have been experimenting with a new spell, Ansley Robinson,” the king said as he moved around to Ansley’s side. He picked up a tome and began flipping through the pages. “For years I have worked tirelessly for my spell to succeed. You see, I am going to become the master of death.” Fear began to creep into Ansely’s throat. “You… what?” Ignoring his outburst, Oncith continued. “I have finally gotten it to work on animals, and I worked my way up to a cow. But for this to truly succeed, I must make sure my spell will work on a sentient being and not a simple cow.” Oncith lightly pat Ansley’s cheek and snapped the tome shut. “And you, my boy, have provided me with the perfect subject.” It finally clicked in Ansley’s head what his punishment would be. “No… No this is impossible! You’re insane!” He began to pull at his restraints. Oncith frowned and retrieved a strip of cloth from a near-by table. “I do wish I hadn’t had to do this,” he sighed as he placed the cloth between Ansley’s teeth, effectively muffling his sounds of protest.

Oncith pulled off his gloves and picked up a wand. He placed the tip against Ansley’s skin and began to mutter incantations. White glowing runes began to appear over his pale skin as the king slowly worked his way over his skin. Each movement of the wand against his skin felt like a knife was carving into him. His skin split and shifted to make room for the light to shine through. Ansley’s resolve cracked and crumbled as fear finally overcame him and he began to let salty tears drip from the corners of his eyes and a cry of pain slip from his lips. For what seemed like hours, Oncith decorated Ansley’s body with the glowing runes. Finally, the gag was removed from his mouth and a potion was pressed to lips. “Drink.” the king ordered. Ansley shook his head, determined to stop this. Oncith growled in annoyance and pressed his fingers into the joints of Ansley’s jaws. “I said, Drink,” he ordered again. A bitter green liquid flowed into his mouth. Once all of it had been deposited into him, Oncith clamped his hand over Ansley’s mouth and pinched his nose shut. “Swallow.” Ansley tried to shake his head but it was no use. Just as spots began to appear in his vision he swallowed. The hands were removed from his face and Ansley gasped for air, coughing and trying to force the potion back up. Within the minute the runes turned from a white light to a sickening green color. Oncith smiled maniacally and he picked up the metal rod from the fire. Ansley began to thrash against his bonds. “You can’t! This is madness! You’re insane!” He screamed. Oncith nodded his head and two guards approached and restrained his torso from moving. ** “I’ll kill you! I tear you apart! I’ll fucking kill you!” ** Ansley shrieked, fearful tears gathering in his eyes. Oncith approached and Ansley couldn’t help but stare fearfully at the red-hot iron symbol in the King’s hand. It was circular, with arrows extending from the black ring. “Please, don’t do this,” Ansley begged, any ounce of pride he had vanishing as he resorted to his last hope. Oncith only let out a laugh. “Oh my, how pitiful.” He raised the iron symbol and pressed it to Ansley’s chest.

A scream of agony filled the stone room. His spine arched off the table but Oncith kept the metal pressed against his skin. Burnt flesh filled the nostrils of everyone in the room. The runes on his body turned a bright red color and seemed to increase in intensity. After several agonizing seconds, Oncith pulled the iron away. A charred black symbol sat upon his chest. the skin sizzled and smoldered, and any adrenaline Ansley had melted away. He lay limp against the stone, small sobs escaping his throat. After a few moments of silence, the red runes on his body all began to gravitate towards the symbol. The mark on his chest, in turn, began to glow as well. The searing heat of the iron rod was nothing compared to the agony that flooded his body. It felt like every inch of him was submerged in boiling tar. He felt like he was suffocating from the pain. Every nerve in his body was a light and he couldn’t help but let out another shriek of agony. Through hazy vision, he thought he could see another figure in the room. A tall, dark, winged creature with no eyes to be seen. He wanted to beg for the figure to save him, but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. The king watched in wonder as the last of the runes disappeared into the symbol and the red glow faded away, leaving only a newly branded mark. Ansley panted on the slab, spots dancing in his vision.

Gerlach stared in amazement. “He’s alive… you did it, your highness.” Gerlach bowed, and the guards followed suit. Oncith stepped into Ansley’s vision once again and leaned down to his ear. “I have made you immortal. You should thank me, boy.” Ansley stared at the stone ceiling, feeling his world crumble around him. He let out a small, fearful whimper and then darkness embraced him.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is apart of a series of drabbles written for a D&D campaign. Any characters are the original creations of the artists involved and any resemblance to persons living, dead, or fictional is completely coincidental.


End file.
